


Moments

by Sailor_Mercury



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lydia-centric, POV Lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4771961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailor_Mercury/pseuds/Sailor_Mercury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of the times through the series where Lydia realizes her feelings for Stiles</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a piece that contains all the major moments where Lydia and Stiles connected, and what was going through Lydia's mind (in my opinion and words, of course.) 
> 
> Canon // Lydia centric // takes place from 2x11 to 5x04
> 
> Music Inspiration: Saturn by Sleeping at Last // I Found (acoustic) by Amber Run

The first time Lydia realizes her feelings for him is probably when she’s standing in his bedroom and he’s yelling at her, telling her that he needs her, that if she ever gets hurt, he’ll be devastated. She can tell by the sincerity in his words and the way his eyes light up that he’s being completely truthful, and it scares her a bit. She’d always just brushed him off a bit, very aware of his infatuation with her, but as she stares at his bruised cheek and busted lip and he’s telling her that he’ll literally go out of his mind if she dies, she realizes there just might be more there. More than infatuation, more than a crush. It’s a fleeting feeling, and then Jackson comes back and floods her memory and the thought of Stiles Stilinski is forgotten (even if his words still flutter through her mind long after she’s left his room).

Jackson leaves, and she’s upset but she’ll live. She knew they never would have lasted anyway. They were always tearing each other down just to build each other back up and she knew it was unhealthy. Those couples only work in fiction, not reality. Still, she did love him. So she takes a few months to herself… and by that she means she hooks up with the best looking guy she can find when the want hits her. Nothing replaces that empty space in her heart though. It’s kind of hollow until one day… it’s not.

And the day that changes is the first day of junior year. One minute Stiles was asking her about the bandage on her ankle and the next, there were hundreds of birds headed their way, flying head first into the windows. She can hear Ms. Blake yelling get down, get down but her instincts have already kicked in and she’s pushing her desk away, prepared to curl into the fetal position with her hands over her head. She never gets the chance though as two arms wrap around her upper body and tuck her close against their owner’s body. She doesn’t even have to look at the plaid long sleeves or smell his cologne to know that it’s Stiles. It’s always Stiles. And instead of pushing him away, she grabs onto his arms with her hands and buries herself further, trying to ignore the way her heart speeds up a bit when his hold gets tighter and he whispers, “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Things only got worse after that. She’s never thought about what Stiles is to her until he’s stepping into a puddle of gasoline as his brainwashed best friend holds a flare in his hand, ready to send them both up in smoke. Lydia’s heart nearly stops as Stiles steps towards Scott, and she can’t seem to find her breath even as he speaks. She doesn’t really hear all of his speech, all of her attention is zeroed in on the flare in Scott’s hand and her heart is just hammering with fear. Stiles gets through to him, though. Of course he does. Lydia watches with wide eyes as Stiles takes the flare out of his hand and throws it out of reach of the gasoline. She exhales in relief because they’re safe. It’s when she breathes and her lungs fill once again that she realizes just how worried she’d been for them. Genuinely concerned, terrified even. She remembers the way her heart had stopped short as Stiles walked towards his own death, but before she can even analyze what that means her eye catches the light of the flare as it rolled back into the gasoline and it’s too late to tell them to move. She screams and she runs on reflex, not thinking about what might happen, not caring about what might happen, and she throws her weight into Stiles. The three of them fall to the ground just in time as the gasoline lights up in flames and she feels herself shaking as she lays on top of Stiles. Then it hits her that she just risked her life for Stiles, and that night as the rest of her friends are sleeping on the bus, she glances over at the boy in the seat next to her, his head lolled back and his mouth slightly open, and her mind goes back to his words all those nights ago in his bedroom (and she secretly wonders what she’d do if she lost him, too).

Then she did the absolute stupidest thing she ever could’ve done. She kissed him. She had her arm around his waist and was practically dragging him into the locker room as each shaky breath came from his lips, and each one was quicker than the last. They make it half way across the room when he bangs against the lockers and slides down to the floor and she’s freaking out because she’s never seen him like this. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, his world is spinning and she just wants to help. She tries, too, she tries to help him but she only makes it worse. She tells him ‘slow your breathing’ and he repeats he can’t, he can’t. She watches as his hand goes to clutch his chest and she’s saying his name over and over but it’s like he can’t hear her. That’s when she couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed his face in her hands and forced him to look at her and she saw this boy, this beautiful boy that was just scared and she did the only thing she could think to do. She leaned in and crashed her lips against his. She shut her eyes tight and kissed him, hard. She didn’t know what she expected but it definitely wasn’t this – this kiss was something else entirely. It had so much emotion in it, every single bottled up ‘what if’ and ‘maybe’ just exploded and suddenly, his lips weren’t frozen anymore and he kissed her back. She felt her heart racing and her head was spinning, and she kissed him back for just one more lingering second before pulling away. She kept her eyes closed as goosebumps swept across her skin despite the warm sunlight she could feel radiating against her skin. Or maybe that was just the blood racing through her veins because she had just kissed Stiles Stilinski and she had liked it. She had liked it a lot.

She knew she was fucked the second she opened her eyes and she saw him staring back, confused. His amber eyes were wide, his lip was trembling, but he was breathing alright. Then he asked her, “why’d you do that,” in the most broken voice she’d ever heard from him and she just wanted to kiss him all over again. But she couldn’t… they couldn’t. So she made up this excuse about reading somewhere that holding your breath could stop a panic attack while she prayed to God her heart slowed down and her lips could stop buzzing because she would never get to kiss Stiles Stilinski again.

It’s later on that same day when she hears something that had never occurred to her. Emotional Tether. Deaton explains that in order for the sacrifice to work, the person holding you under has to be able to pull you back. Apparently, Lydia was Stiles’ emotional tether. She was the one that could pull him back. And as he looks at her from across the room, those same amber eyes from the locker room look guilty and she can see the memory from earlier that day swimming in their depths. She smiles at him shyly because there’s no way he could know she’s thinking of the same thing, and those two words, emotional tether, just keep ringing in her head. As they get ready Lydia can’t help but think back to a year ago. She didn’t even know Stiles. She only knew him as Stiles Stilinski, the overly sarcastic, lanky, love struck boy from second period. When he looks over his shoulder at her for the last time, she realizes she knows him in so many more ways now: she knows him as Stiles, the one she was supposed to call when she finds a dead body. She knows him as Stiles, the selfless boy who would die for anyone he really cared about. She knows him as Stiles, the boy whose lips made her feel things nobody had ever made her feel before, and she now knows him as Stiles, her emotional tether (because if they were reversed and she was sacrificing herself, she had a feeling it wouldn’t be Allison holding her under).

After that day, she tries to bury anything she feels for him and ignores any and all thoughts about the boy with pale, mole splattered skin and a sharp, witty tongue. She doesn’t need another complication in her life.

Weeks later, she’s laying on his bed, pestering him about his color choice of yarn when it comes back. Her mind flashes back to hours earlier that day when she thought she was on the right trail. She was sure of it, and he believed her. He pulled the fire alarm for her, following her instinct, but it was all for nothing. She asks him if he got detention and he answers her so casually, “Yup, every day this week.” Then he looks over his shoulder, reassuring her that he doesn’t mind, reminding her that he believed her, insisting they were onto something. She looks down as she begins to twist and tie the red string around her fingers, trying to get her mind off the overwhelming doubt. There was no proof, she must have been wrong. Her eyes flicker as her negative thoughts start to get louder until he’s there, kneeling down in front of her, his eyes looking right at hers. He’s reassuring her, telling her she was right and that she can’t doubt herself now. But still, she’d screwed up. There was no scent, no bomb, and that meant no proof. And on top of all that, she had gotten him in trouble.

Then his fingers are touching hers, unwrapping the string and he’s talking but for a minute she can’t hear him as the blood rushes through her ears and her heart kicks it up a few notches. Her eyes are stuck on him when she comes back to it, listening to his words, watching his lips move and his fingers pulling at the string, feeling his skin against hers, soft and gentle. She knows he’s being completely honest when he says he believes her, and she knows it even more when he looks at her and says he would go back to the school, right then and there, just to prove she was right. The look he gives her is so sincere, so genuine, that when it combines with his words it makes her heart hurt just a little bit, and she has to look away from his brown eyes as she licks her lips or else she’s afraid she might do something stupid again. She feels her heart swell for a moment and she has to remind herself to catch her breath. Then moments later she’s shoving the memory into the back of her mind as she follows him out the door.

It’s less than a month later when she hears him through the radio and it is the most terrifying thing she’s ever experienced up to that point. She hears his whimpers, his cries, his whispers. It’s all so soft and barely there at first until she steps closer, focusing her attention on it, calling out to him in her mind. Stiles… Stiles… Stiles… until she hears him say “come find me” and he sounds so lost and broken it damn near breaks her heart and she doesn’t even say anything to Aiden before she’s rushing out the door, her painting forgotten. The first place she goes to is his house because this might all be a hallucination. It might all just be a figment of her imagination, but she starts to doubt that as Aiden calls him repeatedly on her phone, each call going straight to voice mail. She finally gets to his house and he’s not there and her heart sinks to her stomach because he’s out there somewhere; alone, cold, lost, scared. She tells the others to go on without her because she feels something. She tells them she’ll catch up but there’s something hidden in this room. She takes her time, walking around, trying to find it when Aiden shows her a picture of her drawing. It’s framed and everything, the drawing of the Nemeton she drew over and over for weeks before they realized what it was. “He likes you a lot, doesn’t he?” Aiden asks, flipping the frame over and revealing a note to her. For Lydia. And her breath hitches in her throat and her heart skips a beat as she sees the note and her mind wonders what could be hidden behind those folds. She doesn’t have time to dwell on it though because finally, she hears something. She knows where he is.

Except she doesn’t. Hours later and she’s sitting in the hospital waiting room with Scott sitting on her right as her heart pounds and her mind races. She felt it, she was so sure of it. She would’ve sworn on her life that he was there. It ran so deep she’d felt it in her bones. But sure enough, she led them to the empty basement of a mental institution. Stiles had been nowhere to be found and they were all hopeless as they left until Scott got a call saying they found him. And then there they were, waiting. Lydia’s thoughts are so consuming she doesn’t realize the doctor’s walking towards them until Scott nudges her. She whips her head up and she sees the white coat and she’s on her feet. The second she hears, “He’s okay now, he’s sleeping,” her eyes close and she exhales in relief and her heart slows down a bit. That’s all that matters tonight, he’s okay.

Soon enough though, she realizes that Stiles is not okay. He’s not even close. She’s never felt so bad for someone else before. She just wants him to have his body back, his mind back. At the same time, she feels a bit selfish too because she just wants Stiles back, the real one. And above all she feels utterly helpless because not even Deaton knows how to save him and it’s like watching someone you love die in front of you, except it’s more painful because it’s Stiles body, it’s his voice, but it’s not him. And it’s killing her. That’s why she decides to go into his mind to save him. At this point, she would do anything to help him, to save him. She’s risked her life for him before, and God knows he’s risked his life for her, too. She doesn’t even hesitate to volunteer. She just wants to have Stiles back.

And they get him back. They do. But he’s still not okay. He’s even worse. But she’s not there to know that, because the nogitsune takes her away. The single most terrifying thing Lydia has ever faced was when she was stuck in those tunnels with that spirit. He could her Stiles’ screams echoing off the walls (just one of the many tortured voices she hears in her head). The spirit would whisper in her ear and it made her cold to the bone. He would laugh and it would have this menacing, evil, maniacal tone. He could quirk his lips into a condescending smirk that made her shudder. And above all, his fingers would touch her and it’d make her skin crawl because this was not Stiles. But if this replica was anything to guess on, she could guess Stiles wasn’t doing too well, and when he shows up to save her it’s just concrete proof he’s still not okay (she really needs him to be okay). They’re running back through the tunnels and she’s right behind Scott, running as fast as she can when he hears her name from behind her, twice, and she turns back to see Stiles falling against the wall. And she wants to follow Scott, warn the others and if it’s too late, help them, save them. But she takes a few steps back and grabs his body before he can fall completely. He’s shivering and his skin is icy to the touch and she’s wide-eyed as she looks at him and she realizes he’s dying. So she stays there, kneeling in the very tunnel she’s been tortured in for hours and watches as Scott runs to the rescue, staying right beside the boy who needs her the most. She doesn’t even leave when she feels the stab in the stomach or tears running down pale cheeks or that last, dying breath. She doesn’t even leave as she feels Allison die. She just falls against him as sobs wrack her body and she clings to his shirt, wanting him to wake up and hold her against his chest and whisper something to soothe the pain. She just wants him to help her heal. She just needs him.

The next night, she’s supporting all his weight, practically carrying him towards the school and into God knows what. She never lets go of him though, no matter how much he’s leaning on her. That’s what she’s there for, after all. As they’re walking into the school her mind briefly flashes back to the last time she was practically dragging him somewhere but she shakes the memory of sunlit lockers and concrete floors out of her mind. Now is not the time.

And then they’re standing in the middle of a battlefield, clinging to each other as chaos unfolds around them. Her arms are wrapped around him and her heart is exploding under her chest and she’s scared. She can feel him shaking beside her (from the fright or feeling faint, she can’t tell which) and she can’t tear her eyes away as her friends fight and fight but nothing happens.

Then Stiles is pulling away from her and scrambling towards Kira’s sword, and she can’t do anything as she stands there powerless and watches as he holds it up to himself. She’s shaking her head, trying to find the words but nothing’s coming out. Her brain is on the fritz and all she can do is stand there, frozen, as Scott yells at him not to. Then she hears his voice, unsteady and scared, asking what if it saves them, and that must trigger something because as her eyes stay glued to the shiny metal the words are coming out of her mouth before she can even think. What if it’s another trick? It’s a trickster spirit, right? It feeds off pain, strife, chaos. All it’s done so far was set up trap after trap, trick after trick. But then the spirit is shaking his head back at her and she’s too terrified to look but she can hear it saying “no more tricks, Lydia.” She tunes out after that, watching the light reflect as Stiles’ hands shake violently and, oh God, how could it end like this? It can’t, it just can’t. She’s shaking as much as he is and she feels her eyes glass with tears and her heart feels like it is bursting and she’s so scared for him. She’s holding back everything she wants to say with her lips pursed tight. She wants to scream, but her voice is somewhere in her throat and time is moving too fast as she watches him fight with himself, building up the will and she can feel her voice again and the word “Don’t” is on the tip of her tongue when he looks to the side, his arms and hands still. She has no idea what he sees or why it changes his mind, but suddenly he’s taking the sword away from his stomach and she can finally breathe (but she’s shaken beyond belief still and she can’t quite move). She’s never felt more relieved than when he tossed Kira her sword and even though he was weaker than ever, he still held his head up when he said those three words, a divine move.

Everything turns out alright. He fainted and she was briefly scared that they’d lost him but he woke up soon after. They were all safe, they were all okay. Well, almost all of them. When she heard the sounds of cries from the parking lot, she knew someone was gone. And she had a feeling it had been Aiden. The following weeks meant grieving. They lost two people, two warriors, two soldiers, two friends. Scott lost his first love, Ethan lost his brother. Lydia lost her best friend and her… something. Then Ethan and Isaac left. In perspective, they lost four people. But Lydia felt like she lost five.

Stiles was becoming further and further away from her. She needed him, then more than ever and he was pulling away - spending less time with her. He just wasn’t around anymore, and she knew why. The reason was one fierce werecoyote who had taken on the position of Stiles’ first girlfriend. Lydia wasn’t mad at her, she didn’t have a right to be. She knew Malia couldn’t take Allison’s place in their group, nobody could. But Malia was slowly taking her place (or at least, that's what it felt like).  
They rarely talked by the time the dead pool situation rolled around. The only time they saw each other was when they were with everybody else. But she had no one to blame but herself, really. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t notice the way her and Stiles’ relationship had changed over the past months. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel something for Stiles now. But he was somebody else’s now, she’d had her chances. So she forgot about the way his fingers always used to find their way to hers so naturally, she forgot about the way her heart stopped when she thought he was gone (on more than one occasion), and she completely buried memories of amber eyes flowing with awe and confusion in dimly lit locker rooms, and she tried her best not to remember the way his lips felt against hers.

So it came as a shock when he wrapped his arms around her in his bedroom after the phone call about Meredith. It’d been so long since she’d felt his touch that it kind of overloaded her senses. She ignored the feeling she got, like her heart had just been electrified and was beating so hard she could practically hear it in the silence. She stood there, trying to sort out what she should feel and what she was feeling as his arms held her against his chest and the smell that was purely Stiles flooded her with comfort. She decided for this moment, just this one time, she would forget about the benefactor, about Meredith and Malia and just forget about everything and her arms wrapped around his torso as her eyes fluttered shut and she inhaled deeply, trying to pretend that they could stay like that.

But of course they couldn’t. And after that moment, she locked up everything she remembered, everything she felt. Now was not the time (and she was starting to think it never would be).

It’s not much later when she finds herself tied up in the basement of Eichen House, listening to her grandmother’s murder. Her heart is breaking and the murderer himself is sitting inches away from her and she wants to be strong but she can’t as tears softly streak her cheeks. She hears the sound of handcuffs clinking against the pole and then suddenly Stiles’ voice is whispering to her. “Lydia, look at me. Don’t listen.” She turns towards him as best as she can, listening to his voice, trying to focus on the familiar comfort his voice usually brings, the smoothness and the relief that she wants to so desperately grasp. Focus on my voice Lydia, block it out. But she hears her grandmother breathing in, each gasp is a struggle. It’s so faint but yet it’s so loud and as much as she wants to listen to Stiles, to focus on him and only him she just can’t. 

It feel like an eternity until the tape is over, but she knows the torture is not. She can feel it in the air. Trouble. Danger. Death. The odds aren’t exactly in their favor, either. She doesn’t even think as Brunski starts leaning towards Stiles, the sick expression of pleasure on his face, and words flow out of her mouth, “no, no, no.” It turns into a mantra, but she doesn’t expect it when he lunges towards her and suddenly there’s a needle pressed to her neck and she’s terrified. But through it all she hears Stiles scream and then she hears metal on metal and then Parrish bursts in.

They both make it out safe, thanks to Parrish. But Lydia would never forget what she felt when she turned to let Stiles free, only to notice one of his hands were already broken out. The metal on metal sound she heard must’ve been because of that. Stiles broke free just to try and save her, no supernatural powers, no super strength, just sheer will and desperation. She wouldn’t get her hopes up or anything, the memories and the feelings, those were all still buried way down deep… but it had to count for something, right?

Finally, their senior year rolls around and Lydia is almost relieved. She’s begun to get closer to Stiles again, little by little. He’s still with Malia, though, but Lydia’s a bit more okay with that now. She likes Malia, Malia makes him happy and they’re good together. As long as he’s happy, then what more could she ask for. It didn’t matter that her heart ached a bit when she lay awake, alone at night and she could feel that he wasn’t. It didn’t matter that she still had dreams where she could feel his fingers running over hers, where she could feel his jaw in her hand and his lips pressed against hers. God knows she had her chance to call him hers, and she’d given it away. So none of that mattered. All that mattered was that he was happy. Still, she can’t deny the way she felt when she saw him standing at the end of the hall that night, rain speckled plaid shirt and raindrops still clinging to his hair and his neck. She remembered her best friend’s voice in her head, saying, “Remember what it feels like, all those times in school when you see him standing down the hall and you cannot breathe until you’re with him.” Now, she thinks she understands what Allison had meant. And she swears she sees the same look he used to give her, the one of awe and admiration and just something so overwhelming, but it’s gone the second she blinks and her heart drops a little as she puts on a smile as she marches towards them and mentally hopes her pulse slows down.

It’s only a few days later, two weeks at most when she gets hurt. And it hurts like hell, it really does. As a fresh wave of pain rolls over her, she’s suddenly reminded how human she really is despite being a banshee. She feels the blood against her skin, seeping into her clothes. She feels nausea start to kick in and she feels herself sweating, struggling to stay awake, fighting to stay alive, really, as Kira freaks out above her, putting pressure on the wound. She closes her eyes and she can’t help the groans that slip out of her mouth as she feels her energy fading and she’s getting tired – getting weak. The blood is sticky against her skin, a mixture of old and fresh, dry and slick, and she tries to distract herself when she hears the scuffling of shoes. She wants to open her eyes but she can’t find it in her so she just grimaces more as someone else comes running towards her, pushing Kira out of the way. For a moment, Lydia’s terrified until she feels a belt wrapping around her torso and the pressure intensifies. Time is passing by so slow to her, and she forces her eyes open to see just who had made the tourniquet around her waist.

It’s not until she turns her head to the side that she finally sees him. And god, he looks broken. She’s never quite seem him like this, not once. His eyes are stuck, frozen on her, and they keep flickering from her face to her side. Those whiskey eyes she loves so much are wide and terrified and glassy. He looks like the definition of devastated and she wants to laugh at the irony as her mind flashes back to the night that started it all and his voice echoes in her mind, his words “I’ll be devastated,” ring through her head. After all this time, it was still true.

He’s breathing heavily and she can see that he’s shaking just a bit, ever so slightly, and she wants to get up and comfort him, just tell him that she’s fine, that she’ll be okay. But then her mother is there and he snaps out of it as the older woman almost falls on him, taking in the scene. Her mom rushes to her side but Stiles is still standing in the doorway, his feet are glued to the spot and his eyes are glued on her. She suddenly realizes Scott is calling his name, he’s calling for Stiles. She feels weak but she keeps her eyes open, watching as Stiles looks over his shoulder quickly, briefly, before looking right back at her again, ignoring Scott. She can see it in his eyes, fear. Fear that if he looks away, she might not be there when he looks back. Fear that if he leaves, he won’t see her ever again. And as she looks back into those scared amber eyes she remembers just why she loves this boy. She loves him, she really does. She finally lets herself think it, finally admits it - She loves him. And because he’s standing here, ignoring his best friend and ignoring his dad and his eyes are fixed on her and he looks so crushed, so devastated, so broken, she thinks he might still love her too. And she knows he’s not going to leave her.

But he has to. As much as she wants him to stay (she wants him to stay by her side more than anything), she knows he can’t. There are too many people worrying about her and too many people helping her. So she smiles because what else can she do, and she tells him she’s fine. “Stiles, I’m fine. Help Tracy.” He doesn’t move, and her heart aches a little bit as she yells “go” and then he’s turning around, grabbing onto his father as they walk towards Scott. She watches him as he goes and she keeps smiling because he keeps looking over his shoulder to make sure she’s still there, still breathing, still alive. She watches as he disappears around the corner and once he’s gone she closes her eyes and grimaces, putting her hand on her side as she hears the sirens of the ambulance get closer. She’s just gonna have to hold on a little longer, but she’s going to be fine. She has to be, because she knows he’ll go out of his mind if she dies and she can’t have that. She loves him too much to let that happen. Lydia Martin will be fine, because Siltes Stilinski needs her and the universe could try as hard as it wants but it would never be able to take her away from him (because if she's really being honest, she thinks she needs him just as much).


End file.
